Sunday September 27, 2015
My current desktop photo is just a yellow ironweed with some grasses intertwined. I love the colors in the background which happens to be an orange construction fence on an old log.
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“What are you going on about now, Peg?” I hear you ask.
Last week I asked you to come up with another word letter for letter-blog and I got a couple of replies.
“How about Random Thoughts from Peg,” suggested one of you and that would be a great title for a blog.
“To call up a memory from childhood--what if you called it your Weekly Reader?” another of you suggested.
Again, a great name for a blog, but I was looking to replace ‘letter-blog’ with a simpler word. Something shorter maybe for when I’m talking about my letter-blog to you -- you know, like now.
“Just pick one word or the other,” I can hear my wise old Momma say in my head. “Either call it a letter or call it a blog.”
Yeah, I can always do that too.
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Mike’s helper Gary is back from his trip to see his daughters so they are working on getting a bathroom put in our new ‘home’ for lack of a better word. Using the tanks in the RV gets to be a pain when you have to dump them all the time so we’ll have a full bathroom on the RV side of the new garage.
In anticipation of Gary’s return Mike purchased an up-flush toilet system. Not cheap, let me tell you, but necessary when working with an existing sewer and concrete pad. We, as in Mike and me, were working in the garage last week and moving some shelves around. Unloading the shelves in preparation to moving them, Mike took the box containing the tank and moved it to the other side of the garage. He set it on top of a stack that he was making and turned around and…CRASH!
Yeah. We turned around and the whole stack had fallen to the concrete floor and smashed the tank into smithereens.
“Shit!” Mike says.
I’m like, well, whatever, and not really saying anything. Stuff happens, you know? And I just don’t get that upset about it. But Mike picked up on my attitude.
“I didn’t really want to have to buy another tank, Peg!” Mike says. Like, who does? And he was mad at himself.
“Maybe Menard’s can do something for us?” I suggested to Mike.
“I broke it.”
“I know but sometimes there are things they can do,” I said. “It’d be worth a shot, don’t you think?”
“They’re not going to do anything, I broke it,” he repeated and I didn’t argue with him.
Later we head out to Menard’s to buy a replacement tank for the one we broke. We locate it in the plumbing aisle, which isn’t all that hard, they only have the one style of an up-flush toilet. Mike loaded it into our cart and we head up to the checkout counters. Our turn comes and I look up and right there at end of the checkouts is the customer service.
Why not? I thought. I handed Mike the credit card, “Finish this up, I’ll be right back,” and I thrust the card at him before he could object.
There weren’t any customers at the counter so I stepped right up. “Hi there,” I said to get the attention of one of the workers. “I wonder if you could help me.”
“I’ll try,” a gal said turning to me. “What’s your problem?”
“We bought a Sani-Flush system in here last week and broke the tank before we even had a chance to install it. It was totally our fault but is there anything you can do for us, anything at all?” I asked.
She turned to the man she had been talking to when I approached. He was sitting in front of a computer and heard the whole story. He clicked a few buttons, “Let me see.” He said. “Do you have the skew?”
“My husband is right there buying a new one,” I said pointing to Mike as if that would help. The girl I first talked to came around the counter and went to the checkout where Mike was finishing the transaction. She came back with Mike pushing the cart and read the number from the box. The manager typed it into his system and sat studying the screen for a moment. “I can do $25 that’s it,” he answered.
“Thank you,” I enthused. When you aren’t expecting anything you’re not disappointed when that’s what you get. On the other hand, if you aren’t expecting anything and you do get something it makes you grateful.
“I’m sorry I can’t do more.” He apologized!
“Heck no, that’s great,” I said and I was grateful.
The moral of the story: it never hurts to ask.
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Living in our little studio apartment Baby Blue never sharpened her claws on anything that she wasn’t supposed to. But since moving into the RV we have had some issues with her.
“She loves the sound or feel of her claws puncturing the vinyl?” you guess.
Sort of, but here’s the deal. When she jumps up onto the furniture the vinyl is slippery and she sinks her claws in to catch herself. So in essence, yes, she is putting holes in the vinyl upholstery but it’s not malicious.
Baby Blue went in for her surgery on Friday a week ago. “How old is she now?” I asked the receptionist when we checked her in.
“Umm, our records show she’s five now.”
Five years! Sixty months! Two hundred sixty weeks! One thousand eight hundred twenty five days! Holy cow! Where has the time gone? It doesn’t seem possible that we have had Baby Blue for five years.
The vet kept Baby Blue over the weekend and you know what? I missed her. I didn’t even expect that to happen because I’m more of a dog lover but we have a routine around here and my routine was interrupted.
In the morning, I get up, take the girls out for a morning walk, come back in, put water for my coffee in the microwave and while that’s heating, I feed Baby Blue -- Macchiato too if he’s around. Baby Blue hears me come through the outside door and starts crying, just in case I had any thoughts about doing anything other than getting her fed. Besides having dry food available at all times, I give them some canned cat food with dry food mixed in. If Baby Blue doesn’t get that stinky soft stuff in the morning then she’s unhappy and I have to hear about it all day -- or until I give in and feed her.
Saturday, the first morning without Baby Blue, when we came back from our walk I didn’t have anything to do while the water was heating. Macchiato wasn’t around and there was no little white calico crying for her breakfast. I sat down in front of my computer with my coffee and had to think about it for a second before I could identify what I was feeling. I missed her, doggone it!
It’s harder on an older cat being de-clawed than if we had done it when she was a kitten and the vet gave us some extra pain medicine to keep her comfortable till she’s healed. Yeah, the vet didn’t give us anything, but you know what I mean. Baby Blue has done a lot of sleeping this past week and a lot of paw shaking too. She’s been doing a little licking and chewing on her paws but not what I would consider overmuch or we would have to get her one of those attractive white cone collars.
You’re supposed to use shredded paper in the litter box for a couple of weeks too but I have some problems with that. For one, there is no odor control with the shredded paper, for another, I think it can teach a cat to pee on paper and finally, I was afraid Molly wouldn’t use it. We did use it the first day Baby Blue was home and after a whole day and night and there being only one stinky pee in there I was afraid we would find cat messes elsewhere. I dumped the paper and went back to litter.
“Why shredded paper?” you ask.
They say there is a chance that litter can get caught up in the wounds on their paws. But Baby Blue doesn’t bury anything anyway. She’ll scratch at the plastic lid of the box, but never in the litter.
While we’re talking about cats I have to tell you about Molly.
Since I’ve been brushing our critters everyday Molly has learned that when I come for her she runs and gets up on the couch and waits for me to brush her. Molly, by the way, is twelve years old now (I had to ask the vet).
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I sent this photo to the ombudsmen at the MDC and asked what these are and what’s going on here. Was the big one like a ‘shepherd’ taking care of his flock?
Don’t laugh, I know there are insects out there that farm aphids.
Kristie from Missouri Department of Conservation said, “The larger insect is an assassin bug nymph. Assassin bugs are predators of other insects, like aphids-which would explain its presence in the photo. Missouri is home to several species of assassin bugs and some of the common ones are the leaf-footed bug and the wheel bug.”
Boy those wheel bugs! Once you know his name and see his face you won’t ever forget him. See the ‘saw blade’ on top of his head?
“It looks like the aphids are feeding on your plants and the assassin bug is feeding on your aphids. You have a little food chain going on!” Kristie said.
Assassin bugs get their name because they have a strong beak that they use to repeatedly and violently stab their pray to death. Ewww. And the wicked ‘bite’ of any assassin bug, juvenile or adult, is said to be extremely painful to humans. No thanks! I’m not touching one!
I love the MDC!
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It’s hard to know where to go from here. I see, in reviewing my notebook, that I missed telling you a short story about that little stinker Andrew. So let me tell you then I can cross it off my list, okay?
On one of the times in the not so distant past, when I was watching Andrew and we went for a walk, I was pushing the stroller and singing little songs for Andrew.
I really can’t carry a tune and Andrew’s mama has a beautiful voice and I know she sings to him. I thought it would give him a taste of both extremes. Besides, he’s too little to tell anybody how awful it is, so I sing to him.
We came to a hill and between pushing him and trying to sing, I was getting a little winded. “Andrew,” I said, “I can’t push you up the hill and sing too. Why don’t you sing to me?”
“No,” he says and the next few minutes was spent with me begging and him being stubborn. He wouldn’t sing for me.
We get back to the RV and Andrew climbs up on the dash, sits down beside Baby Blue, strokes her head and sings to her.
“You little stinker,” I told him.
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For the past year or so I have been picking up the feathers I find in the wild. I don’t really find all that many and I don’t know what I will do with them but that hasn’t stopped me.
On one outing with Itsy and Ginger I stuck my find in Itsy’s topknot and she reminded me of a saloon girl. You ever watch any of the old westerns? Yeah. The feather sticking out the top of the headdress is the end of the resemblance there.
I came across a whole herd of black vultures cleaning up an armadillo and they really let me get pretty close to them, a lot closer than many wild birds let me get.
I had no idea when I first started seeing these guys around how bad they really are. They will chase off the red faced turkey vultures and even kill baby animals. I got as close as I dared and took a bunch of photos of them. Then a few days later when I was walking in that area again I saw the armadillo shell, walked over and turned it over with my foot. Nothing but shell left and tail. The tail was still there too.
Maybe I can find a vulture feather, I thought and started walking around and scanning the grass and I found one. Then I get greedy and think I’ll pick up another one, but I looked and looked and couldn’t find anymore.
I have to tell you, it’s a beautiful black feather and makes a nice addition to my wild feather bouquet.
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If you’ve forgotten the story you can go to my blog at lifentimessofme.blogspot.com and re-read Jasmine’s Story posted on April 29, 2015. Note there are two ess’s in times, purely an accident but it means if you find my blog then you were probably looking for it.
Many of you have been asking me for an update for months now but here’s the problem in one word. Money. Jasmine has a hard time meeting all of the family’s needs and sometimes something has to go and that’s usually the phone.
“Momma, I can’t get Jasmine,” I told Momma on the phone one night. “She doesn’t answer any of the emails I sent and I finally tried the phone and it says it’s not in service.”
“I’ve been trying too,” Momma told me, “and so has Rosemary. I think I’ll ask Rick to run up there and see what’s going on.”
My cute little redheaded brother took the time out of his busy schedule and made a special trip to see Jasmine and assuage our worries.
(Conner, assuage is pronounced a swage and means to provide relief.)
Rick reported back to Momma who reported to me that Jasmine had recently had the phone turned back on and I was able to text her and get this update for you.
“There hasn’t been much change, he’s growing. He’s been sick but GETTING better but at least I haven’t had to take him to the hospital, thank God. It’s been a touchy weekend and the nurse I had this weekend was scared more than she needed to be and wasn’t too confident and I could tell.”
And that’s all I know.
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Conner, my youngest fan, looks forward to reading my letters every week.
“He loves to read,” Sue, Conner’s grandmother and our favorite Golden Corral waitress told me. “He had a reading assignment to read three chapters over the weekend and he asked me if he could keep reading. He finished his three chapters in like, one day!”
Conner also talks about me. He told his teacher about a lady that gives his grandma stories that she writes.
“What’s her name?” the teacher asked like I might be famous or something, but Conner didn’t know and had to ask Sue when he got home from school.
“I think I’ll send one of your letters to school with him,” Sue told me.
During the week Conner must think about me, too. “The other day he asked me when that lady would come in again,” Sue told me. “I asked him, ‘What lady?’ ‘The lady that gives you stories.’” And Sue laughed.
I wonder what he was thinking about.
Maybe Conner will be a writer too?
